


After the Ritz

by occasionalgnome



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalgnome/pseuds/occasionalgnome
Summary: Now that there's nothing stopping him, Aziraphale has something he needs to say to Crowley.





	After the Ritz

“Well, what are you in the mood for now?”

“Alcohol. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.”

… 

As the two enter the bookshop after their lunch at the Ritz, Crowley notices somewhere along the way he’s lost Aziraphale. He turns to see the angel standing amid the stacks, looking rather in a fog.

“Aziraphale? Everything alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, quite.” Aziraphale blinks himself back to reality and meets Crowley’s eyes for a moment, before his gaze darts away again. “It’s just all hitting me now, I suppose. It’s really all over. No more worrying about the antichrist. No more right vs. wrong- in the professional sense at least.”

He locks eyes with the demon, as something occurs to him for the first time. “No more holding back.”

Crowley cocks his head to one side, waiting for Aziraphale to go on. In a moment he does, his words hurried, as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t get them out now he never will.

“I love you, you know.”

Crowley’s jaw drops slightly, as he lets out a series of broken stutters, at a loss for any actual words.

Aziraphale doesn’t wait for a reply, rushing ahead with his confession. “I mean, I can’t imagine existence without you. In fact, if I didn’t have you, I rather think I wouldn’t even like to exist at all. Everything about you- it’s just… well, I suppose my days are just brighter with you around.”

He pauses, hoping Crowley might jump in. He doesn’t. He simply takes off his sunglasses, staring blankly at the angel.

“Well, there you have it. I’d think you’d have at least some sort of idea already- Lord knows how long its been- but I thought I might as well say it frankly now, since there’s no reason not to anymore.”

The silence continues to stretch, growing nearly unbearable.

“Oh, Crowley, Dear, please say something.”

He doesn’t. Instead, still in a daze, he drops his glasses on the ground, plods his way over to Aziraphale, and kisses him. He kisses him as though trying to make up for the past 6,000 that he hadn’t.

… 

“Well. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite tuckered out. Long couple days, as it were.”

Crowley smiles sleepily at the angel, his angel, as he gets up from the couch, clearly ready for bed. They’d averted Armageddon, faced down Heaven and Hell, and talked about their feelings for the first time in all their lives. Long couple days, indeed. After the bookshop, they’d somehow ended up at Crowley’s. Something about a new plant and a pudding in the fridge.

“If you’d be so kind as to lend me a spare pillow, I think I’ll settle in for the night.”

Crowley pauses, trying to figure out how to say what he wants to. “I- well, sure. I’ve, I mean, I’ve got an extra pillow on my bed, anyway. I could bring it down, or- well, you could come up, if you like.”

Clearly not understanding what Crowley is implying, Aziraphale says, “Oh, of course. I don’t mind getting it.” He starts off toward the room before Crowley stops him.

“No- Angel, that’s not what I meant. I meant you could sleep in my bed… if you like.”

Aziraphale blinks in confusion. “Sleep in your bed? And have you sleep on the couch? Don’t be silly, Crowley. I am your guest, after all.”

“You’re really not making this easy on me, are you?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale responds, although something in the way his lips are pursed in a slight smile makes Crowley suspect otherwise.

Swallowing his pride, Crowley sighs and speaks with as much confidence as he can muster faced with such a romantic suggestion. “You can sleep in my bed. I can sleep in my bed. We could sleep together. 

Not- you know, not sleep together, but… sleep together.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s eyes twinkle as he smiles bashfully at the demon. “I think I’d quite like that.”

And so they do.


End file.
